Unless You Like It
by pjstillnoon
Summary: Post Canary... "Gill," he managed to murmur before she was so close he couldn't focus on her eyes anymore. He closed them and a micro-second later felt her lips against his. Warm. She was so warm. It couldn't be possible. It was chilly out on the balcony.
1. Chapter 1

_AN: For Eligirl, who suggested a canary one shot oh so subtly two months ago_

**PJPJPJPJ**

Cal grinned. She was pissed as a fart! And it was hilarious! She was being funny and flirty and so warm when she insisted on standing so close. Normally he was the one that pushed for contact, he draped arms around her shoulders, around her waist, he walked close to her, stepped in close to her, he wanted to be close to her. But tonight, it was Gillian who placed her hands on Cal's shoulders and on his chest while she steadied herself. She was the one who had pulled him into a lingering hug. She was the one who was basically hanging off of him. And now she was leaning in towards him and he couldn't do a thing to stop it. No, literally, he couldn't do a thing. It wasn't like she had him backed up against the wall or pinned down on a bed, it was just that he couldn't move. His body wanted this. Even as his head said this was the wrong thing to do.

"Gill," he managed to murmur before she was so close he couldn't focus on her eyes anymore without going cross-eyed. He closed them and a micro-second later felt her lips against his. Warm. She was so warm. It couldn't be possible. It was chilly out there on the balcony. But she was and she started a fire in Cal's gut so fast he was afraid. They'd kissed before. At New Years once and that had been a simple kiss like this one (although this one was going on for so much longer). And then that other time a few months ago when they had been working that case looking for a missing girl. That one had been really hot but not very intimate and even though he wished it had happened under different circumstances he had still spent a lot of time thinking about it.

"Mmmm," Gillian gave a slight moan and her fingers tightened against Cal's shoulder.

'_Oh god_!' Cal thought alarmed. He applied pressure to her arms, gently pushing her away. As their lips broke apart Cal felt suddenly cold. "We shouldn't do this."

"Why not?"

"It's not right. You're a little bit tipsy luv."

"A little bit?" Gillian gave him a lopsided smile. "I'm a lot bit."

Cal gave a slight smile. She really was very hard to resist when she was like this. Relaxed, funny, flirty. He sighed. "I'll take you home."

"And Ria. Cos she's not as grown up as she thinks she is and can't hand her liquor."

"Uh huh," Cal agreed. "Come on then." He turned and took her hand and gave a gentle pull.

"Wait!" Gillian cried. "Shoes!" She stooped to pick them up. Cal waited while she fluffed around and righted her balance when it seemed she was about to take a nose dive into the concrete tiles. They padded back inside and Cal made sure the door was locked behind them. Then they approached the sleeping Ria. "Maybe we shooed leave her here," Gillian suggested.

"Nope," Cal shook his head. "I'm not lockin' her in." He crouched down next to her and started pulling her unceremoniously into a sitting position. "Get her bag," Cal instructed the slightly swaying Gillian. He pulled Ria to her feet and half dragged/half walked her out to his car, Gillian following along, singing lightly. She had a fair voice but Cal was trying mostly to block it out. "If you throw up," Cal warned Ria as he put her in the backseat and clipped on her seatbelt. "I'll kick you out on the side of the road. Hear me?"

"Ohhhh," Ria moaned. Cal grinned to himself as he dropped the window half way and closed the car door. She was so going to feel it in the morning. He was going to pick up an air horn on his way to work. He turned to Gillian who was staring up at stars she couldn't see through light pollution.

"Come on then," he coaxed her.

"Alarm," she reminded him.

"All right then, you get in. I'll be right back." But she didn't get in the car, she followed him back to the building and leaned against him while he punch in the alarm code and then locked the door. She hooked her arm around his while they walked back to the car and while they drove to Ria's place in silence, she held his hand with both of hers. And it was doing Cal's head in. He loved her company just not under these circumstances...

Cal helped Ria inside and dumped her on the couch with a bucket and a blanket and then escaped, making sure her door was locked on his way out again. Gillian was singing again when he got back in the car and as soon as he'd clipped his seatbelt up again she leaned on his arm. "Cal, do you love me?"

"Oh sweetheart, I'm not answerin' that."

"Why not?" Gillian pouted.

"We really shouldn't be havin' this convasation."

"Why?" Gillian whined.

"Because you're drunk."

"Isn't that exactly why we should? Cos I'm drunk and I'm not gonna remember this in the mooring? You could tell me anything." Suddenly it was a great idea. "Tell me everything Cal. Unburden yourself. You walk round with all this bottled inside you," she waved a hand as she talked. "I'm a trained psychologylyist."

Cal sighed. Subject matter: serious. The way she was slurring and mixing up her words: hilarious! "Yes."

Gillian felt a shiver of realisation. "Yes I'm drunk?"

"Yes I love you," he said very quietly. So quietly, he wasn't even sure he had said the words himself. He felt sick. Had he really admitted it? He had been silently denying it to Emily for years; his firm 'don't cross that line young woman'. But he had never denied it to himself. He had known it for years and years, long before she had divorced Alec. He'd just never said it aloud. Now it was out there it was so much different. He felt different. Actually, he felt a little lighter. He looked over at her. She was staring at him. He gave a half shrug; eyes back on the road, as if to say: 'what do you want from me?'

"Then why have you been such a douche bag to me in the last few months? Huh? Cos that's not fairness you know."

"I know," Cal also gently admitted.

"You know you can be such a douche bag sometimes!" She punched his arm.

"I know," Cal almost whispered.

"Ow! What the hell have you got on under your arm? A metal suit? Oh my god! Are you Iron Man?"

Cal chuckled despite himself. She really was very entertaining while she was wasted. How was it he had never noticed before? Probably because they usually got drunk together. Should he start to worry about her drinking alone? And so excessively.

"Iron Man is also a shellfish narcisstic bastard," Gillian continued.

Whatever Cal was going to say died on his tongue.

"That would make a lot of sense actually," Gillian mused.

Cal focused on the road. Everything she said was absolutely correct. He was a selfish bastard. He was being a douche bag. He couldn't quite help it. He had just pushed it too far one day and when she didn't resist, fight, keep him in line, tell him to shut up, defend herself... he just couldn't help it. He kept on pushing. Where the hell were her limits? What had happened to her self-respect?

Call pulled into Gillian's driveway and walked her up to the front door. "Will you be all right?"

"Sure," Gillian agreed amiably. She dug around in her handbag for her keys. For ages.

Cal waited patiently for about half a minute. "I have my key," he suggested.

"Hmm mine seem to have grown legs," Gillian mused.

Cal slid his key into the lock and pushed her door open for her. "Good night Gill."

"Come in."

"Can't."

"Or won't or don't want to?"

"Yeah," Cal agreed.

"I don't bite."

Cal gave a half grin.

"Unless you like that?" She gave him a full smile.

Cal shook his head, trying to hide his now complete grin.

"Come in," she half whined, half begged. She bounced a little on the spot.

"I'll make sure you get some wart-a then."

"Ooooh great," Gillian breathed. "Cos I'm not sure I can manage a tap."

'_Definitely sarcasm_,' Cal thought as he followed her inside. She might be able to manage a tap, but she was having trouble walking straight. She almost tripped on the front step and Cal's hand shot out to steady her. She giggled and thanked him. He closed her front door and turned to find her gone. He wondered if he should stay. Then he heard a crash from the other room and decided he better just put her in bed and then leave. Left alone who knew what she was going to do?

He crept carefully down the hallway in the dark. All the lights were off in the house so Cal found her by noise. She was talking to herself. He felt up the wall for a light switch. She had her back to him as the light came on. In her bedroom. '_Oh god_,' Cal groaned to himself. This really wasn't the ideal situation at all. He shouldn't be here. He should leave. Now. Except, the crash was the lamp on Gillian's bedside table and now she was attempting to pick up the pieces of it.

"I'll get it," Cal told her crossing the room quickly to take charge. Gillian giggled as his hands brushed against hers. He ignored her. Nothing was broken, just the shade had come off and the bulb had loosened and fallen out. Cal set the base back on the side table and reassembled the lamp.

"You're very handsy."

Cal wondered if she meant handy. "Nothin' to it luv. Now, go to bed and get some sleep. And drink lots of wart-a." He took a step towards the door, determined this time to get out of there.

"Cal?"

"Yes luv?"

"Will you tuck me in?"

'_Of for fucks sake!'_

Cal tried to shake his head. He tried to walk away. All right, he didn't try very hard. He wanted to ask what she wore to bed. He wanted to tell her to get changed. But neither of those seemed like good ideas. "I'll get the curtains," he offered lamely instead and walked around her bed. Her bed. Oh god, he should leave. '_Leave now_!'

He pulled them closed slowly, giving her enough time to, he didn't know, take her pyjamas and leave the room or something. But no, even with him dawdling she had only peeled off her cardigan. Or at least tried to, it seemed to be caught around her head and she was laughing again, trying to free herself. Cal approached, waited for her to sort herself out but she still struggled. Finally he stepped in. "Thank you," Gillian giggled once she was free again. She draped her arms around his neck while he was distracted with throwing her cardigan onto the chair in the corner. When his head turned back towards her she caught his lips with hers again. Cal was pleasantly stunned for a second. He kissed her back, his hands finding their way over her bare arms. She tasted like his expensive scotch but he was pretty sure that wasn't what made his stomach flip flop.

Gillian shifted to the bed and lowered herself, pulling him down with her and all of a sudden he was leaning over her, their bodies pressed together while they kissed passionately. "See? I know you want me. I can feel you," she murmured against his lips, breathing heavily.

Cal sighed and tried to pull away but she held on to him tightly. "Gill. Not like this."

"Why not? Isn't this the prefect opportunity to take advantage for me?"

Cal wanted to say he'd never do that, but he did. And she knew that too. "Not like this," he repeated.

"How do you want me?" Gillian pouted at him.

"Sober."

"Ok so, well, you can remind me of this conversing tomorrow and then we can just pick up where you left it."

Cal wasn't sure that made sense but he spotted an opening and took it. "Sure, I'll do that." He pried his shirt loose from her fingers and straightened up again. "Tomorrow."

Gillian stayed lying down. She closed her eyes. "Undress me," she requested sleepily.

"Gill," Cal warned wanting to bolt for the door. Wanting to. But funny how he stayed, funny how he'd followed her inside and into her bedroom and let her kiss him and how he still hadn't actually left yet.

"Nothing funny," she sighed and squirmed her body closer to him. Her shirt rode up a little and he could see the flatness of her stomach. Cal stared. Then checked to see if she had noticed. Her eyes were still closed. "Please? I don't want to sleep in my clothing."

'_Object. Leave_.'

Cal reached for her hand and pulled her to sit up. "What do you sleep in?"

"A shirt," Gillian mumbled. She waved a hand vaguely towards her pillow so Cal lifted it and found the item of clothing folded neatly beneath. Very Gillian. He tugged her shirt off over her head, tried to ignore the skin revealed and pulled her sleepwear down over her head. Gillian fed her own arms through the sleeves and then Cal pulled her to her feet. He had done this a million times with a million other women but with Gillian it didn't quite seem like a friendly guy-friend kind of thing to do. He pulled her gently to her feet and tried not to think about what he was doing when he unbuttoned her jeans and pulled down the fly carefully so he wouldn't make contact with any part of her. He pushed them down off her hips and tried not to think about what colour her underwear was or that the skin he couldn't avoid was soft and that as he knelt in front of her to help her step out of her trousers that he was just about eye height with her...

"Thanks Cal."

"Yep," he managed to growl out. "Get in bed," he instructed gruffly. He stood and avoided her eye and draped her clothing over the chair in the corner. Gillian obliged thankfully and Cal made sure the covers were over her. He went to get a glass of water and when he came back she was sound asleep. He set the glass down, adjusted the covers one last time, brushed some hair off her forehead and then leaned down and planted a sweet kiss there. What had he done to her to make her get so pissed on his scotch and then throw herself at him? He was going to have to rethink his behaviour several times over, because that had been torture on so many levels. She knew he loved her and she wanted him. He couldn't explore it with her because she was drunk and in the morning she wouldn't remember anything they had discussed. And then there was why she had been drinking in the first place. Sorting out his messes again. Cal watched her sleep for a moment and then sadly walked away.

**PJPJPJPJ**

Gillian woke, head pounding, mouth dry, the taste of stale alcohol on the back of her throat. But as hangovers went, it wasn't the worst she had experienced. Not the greatest, she wasn't off the hook, but it wasn't the complete hell it probably should have been. She sat up gingerly, noting that her clothes were over the chair in the corner and she was in a t-shirt and bra and underwear. The curtains had been closed and for a moment she was confused as to how she had gotten home. She had been at work. It had been a hell of a day; a day full of doing the shitty things she hated doing. She had drunk far too much. And then... Cal. She remembered everything. She even remembered telling him that she wasn't going to remember anything the next morning. She kind of believed it to be true at the time.

She was wrong. She remembered everything. She remembered every word, the tone of his voice, the smell of his after shave, the look in his eye. Gillian sat stunned for a moment. He had admitted to her so freely. Surely he would have realised there was a chance she would remember in the morning. So why did he do it? Or was she finally abusing the fact that he couldn't read her? Had she lead him to believe she was drunker than she really was?

She remembered word for word his confession. But she knew there was no way she could point that out to him. He would die of the embarrassment and indignity. So it would become just one more secret she kept for him. One more thing she did to protect him. From himself. From her. From as much as possible.


	2. Chapter 2

**PJPJPJPJ**

Gillian was startled by a knock on her front door. It was early. Really, early. Who was knocking on her door this early? "Cal."

He gave her a grin. "Mornin' luv," he greeted her enthusiastically.

"What do you want?" She asked deciding then and there that she was going to stay tight lipped on what he had confessed to her last night. She was going to lie her ass off about it. She had done it before. She could do it again.

"Thought you could do with a ride to work." He gestured at her empty driveway. Correction, at his car in her driveway, exactly where her car should have been parked.

"Oh right," she played along. She let him in.

"You rememba gettin' home last night?"

Gillian closed the front door. "Well I figure you either gave me a ride or put me in a cab?" She raised an eyebrow at him as she walked by.

"I brought you home," Cal seemed suddenly less confident as he stopped by the door to her living room. "You don't rememba that?"

"No." Gillian kept walking down the hall. She wasn't ready for work yet.

"Hmmm," Cal mused. He followed her into her bedroom. Not into it, he stopped and leaned against the doorway. Her bed was unmade and there were assorted clothes strewn across it. So she didn't wake up to Disney songs bright and early. Or maybe that was just on this occasion.

"How's your head?" Cal asked as Gillian dug through the bottom of her closet. He watched her fascinated.

"Ugh," she responded and came up with two matching black shoes. Sexy shoes. "Don't remind me."

"Here," Cal held out the coffee he had been holding.

"What is it?" Gillian eyed is suspiciously.

"For you," he supplied grinning again. "Coffee; black."

Gillian crossed to take it from him. "Oh thank god," she murmured as the aroma hit her senses and her stomach actually felt settled for the first time since she had woken up. She inhaled a few times, testing and when she felt it was safe enough took a sip. "Ow!" She complained and poked her tongue out between her lips slightly to sooth it. It was a rather inviting gesture. "Hot."

"Want me to kiss it betta?"

Gillian's face sobered so quickly even Cal seemed startled for a second, but she covered it by morphing her eyes into a glare. "Hold this," she requested and gave the cardboard cup back to him. She pried the lid off and made him hold that too. Then stepped back to put her heels on. She crossed to her dresser and picked out gold hoops for her ears.

"I'm impressed you can still accessorise hung ova," Cal mused from his position in her doorway. She hadn't invited him in and after last night, even if she didn't remember it, it just felt better to keep a boundary.

"You'd be amazed what a girl learns to do hung over," Gillian responded picking up eyeliner.

Cal watched as she applied a thin line and then went over it again, slightly higher, to make it thicker, darker. She seemed to be doing remarkably fine considering the amount she had drunk last night. He admired her liver a great deal right now. "Have you had breakfast yet? We could stop by somewhere."

"No way," Gillian cut him off. She reached for mascara.

"You should really line your stomach."

"No way," she repeated a little more firmly as she started applying the black to her eye lashes. Her eyes immediately started to pop.

Cal had to look away. "Couldn't tempt you in some fried eggs? Beans? Bacon?"

"Please stop talking about food," Gillian requested from the mirror. She put the mascara down and dusted blush along her cheeks.

The funniest thing? Cal hadn't even noticed she wasn't wearing makeup when she answered the door. He had noticed her stockinged feet and the pencil skirt and the light blue shirt that set her eyes off anyway.

"Cal?"

"Huh?" he looked up and she was suddenly in his line of sight, her beautiful slender fingers reaching out to take her coffee from him.

"Can I have my coffee back?" She seemed amused. He relinquished it and she stepped into him and he seemed surprised. "Am I also allowed to leave my bedroom now?" She asked gently. Cal stepped back suddenly out of her way and stumbled in his haste against the wall. "Are you ok?" She asked watching him.

"Yep, great."

Gillian moved into the living room and pulled back the curtains to let in the day. Cal followed her. She moved through to the dining room and did the same and ended up in the kitchen. She pulled open the fridge and studied the contents while taking another tentative sip of her now cooler coffee. She closed it again, "nope definitely not." She turned to find Cal watching her again. "What?"

"How much of last night do you really rememba?" He asked bluntly.

"Why what happened last night?" Gillian innocently countered his question with her own. She sipped her coffee again, deciding that for now, it was the only thing that her fragile stomach was going to be able to handle.

"That was a deflection," Cal pointed at her.

"So was that," Gillian echoed.

Cal studied her for a moment. "I asked first."

"Will you answer my question if I answer yours?"

"Are we six?"

Gillian gave him a slight smile. "Whatever I said, I apologise. I was drunk off my face." She got serious again to show she meant it. Cal watched her steadily for a moment. "Ok?"

He nodded.

"Shall we go to work then? The sooner I start this day the sooner it will be over."

"Right," Cal agreed gruffly and headed for the door. Gillian watched him go. She leaned heavily against the bench while a momentary wave of light-headedness assailed her. Her self-determination to keep the memories of last night at bay for the sake of the both of them wavered heavily for a moment. How much would everything change if she just told him she remembered everything? Because at this point, it really was up to her what happened next.

**PJ**

When was there ever a right time? People would say things like 'you'll just know'. That was a stupid saying, Gillian decided. There was never a right time. There were golden opportunities, and last night had been one of them if she hadn't been stupid enough to actually get drunk. But then, would Cal have said anything to her if she hadn't had so much to drink? Probably not. As for approaching him now while she was stone cold sober and aware of how complicated the situation was? Really not the best time, but perhaps her only time. If she let it go on any longer it would become even more awkward.

"Bloody hell," she cussed under her breath. She surprised herself by using one of Cal's favourite phrases. She sat back in her chair even more stunned when she realised what that meant. She shook her head. She was in trouble. Big time. With a groan she pushed back from her desk and made her way over to Cal's office. He was talking to Torres. Gillian caught the tail end of them saying they would work on it tomorrow and goodnight. Torres bade Gillian a goodnight on her way out too.

"No you drank all my booze last night," Cal told her as she made her way across his office floor and he made his around his desk to shut off his computer. Gillian ignored him, but that didn't mean a little sigh escaped out of her. Cal looked up. "Oh?" He questioned. "What was that about?"

Gillian shook her head and steeled herself and shut down her nerves. She was aware of her palms sweating but she didn't dare make a move to wipe them on her dress. Cal would pick up on that immediately and she would not give him the satisfaction. "I lied to you."

Cal had been concentrating on his computer but he straightened up and studied her carefully. "What about luv?" He seemed suspicious. Gillian supposed he had a right to be.

"Last night." She watched as he looked a little alarmed. "I remember all of it." And then he looked aghast, stricken. She moved around his desk quickly, placing her hands on his arms and shoulder and turning him towards her. She was aware of her heart beating faster as she pulled him in closer and pressed her lips against his. She sunk in to his body, her centre of gravity now revolving around him. It was so much better kissing him in the light of day. Or evening. Whatever. She was doing this consciously and the way his hand gripped her waist told her that he was kissing her back by a desperate choice and oh it just felt so phenomenal now that it had been done properly.

Gillian pulled back and gave him a slight smile and then a frown. There wasn't gooey warmth in his eyes. There was something else. An edge. Bleakness. Fear.

"What are you doin'?" He spoke barely above a whisper.

Gillian wasn't sure if she should laugh or cry. The release of tension was profound but then it was replaced with something else. Sheer disbelief. "What do you mean what am I doing? Is that not obvious for you?"

"Gill," he stepped around her and put the desk between them. "This is..."

Gillian raised her eyebrows at him. "This is what you want isn't it?" She didn't give Cal a chance to answer. "It's what I want anyway. And I've decided that I should really learn to go after what I want more." She moved around his desk slowly and while she half expected him to back out of her approach, she was pleased when he didn't.

"You want me?" Cal asked in a way that was mixed with disbelief but also assurance. Surprise and cocky. Shock and arrogance.

"Yes. In the worst way possible."

Cal just about did a double take. "Oh you were listenin' to that then were you?"

Gillian nodded and stepped closer and she found herself happy when Cal did the same and his eyes softened into that smile she had been yearning for. His hand brushed against hers and sent a little thrill through her. For real, were they doing this? She wasn't dreaming? This wasn't some drunken fantasy of hers? He leaned in and pressed his lips against hers. He was warm, soft in a way she wouldn't expect but then he leaned into her more and she felt the scruff of his chin against hers and she was reminded of everything that Cal was: male, rough, sometimes abrasive, raw and real. And right here.

Cal pulled away and rested his forehead against hers. "I'm not perfect."

"Funnily enough, neither am I."

"This isn't going to be easy."

"I wouldn't be here if I thought it would."

Cal pulled back to meet her eyes. "I really did mean it when I said that I love you."

"I know you did."

"You could tell that through all that scotch?"

Gillian gave a slight smile. "Yes. I could tell that. But not just because of the scotch."

Cal gave a slight smirk.

"I love you too Cal."

"I know," he responded, his hand coming to rest on her waist. "I don't need scotch to figa that one out."

"But I needed the scotch for you to finally tell me?"

Cal looked slightly abashed. "I guess drunken confessions probably weren't the smartest idea."

"Perhaps not the most mature adult way. But you could argue that it was a very smart idea because it brought us to here."

Cal smiled again. "I'll take it. So long as you don't have to stay drunk through the entire time we date."

"Maybe not the entire time," Gillian mused.

"How about no gettin' drunk?"

Gillian gave a little smirk. "Not unless you like it."

**PJPJPJPJ**

_AN: I really had no intention of writing a second chapter to this fic. It was by accident that I didn't mark it as complete. But then when so many of you requested a second chapter I figured I left myself wide open for it really didn't I? _

_The Doc and I played a game. She blind picked whether to go with, option one Gillian doesn't tell him, or option two Gillian does tell him. _


End file.
